


Soft

by robinasnyder



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Bondage, Dubious Consent, M/M, tummy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25985065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinasnyder/pseuds/robinasnyder
Summary: Obi-Wan was soft because he had an easy life living in Vader’s home, eating Vader’s food and caring for Vader’s son.Vader finds this very attractive.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 9
Kudos: 174





	Soft

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Orientalld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orientalld/gifts).



> [Vader is based on this image from Battlefront 4, with redeemed Vader](https://64.media.tumblr.com/b7c5afe3f17b4b0c54dd6b542b1a84d0/d8f1c6dacfcc6ca0-a4/s540x810/09a8a04524ff36a699b60fd8ba37cbe388cdddc6.jpg).
> 
> This is for Orientalld, who wanted some soft tummy Obi-Wan, and let me off the chain on the angst.

Obi-Wan didn’t tug at his restraints anymore. He hadn’t for years. He’d stopped fighting back entirely once Luke’s safety came into question. Luke was Vader’s pride and joy, his sweet ball of light that he carefully never thought about growing up into a dark Sith apprentice. It was safer that way. It was also easier to raise the boy with Obi-Wan there to tend him during the day when Vader was busy or had to go into the bacta tank. 

When he’d first been burned alive, Sidious made him a horrible suit to keep him alive. The pain had been helpful at first, fueling his anger and therefore his power, until he found Luke. At that point, the mask was too terrifying (Luke sobbed whenever he saw him) and Vader decided that he would not allow Sidious’ horrible contraption keep him from touching his son. So, modifications were made. His face was still scared, especially his head, but with time, his body was healing. At the very least, seeing sunlight gave him some of his color back and his brows had accepted the hair transfer to return his eyebrows. 

The Force was able to do anything. Eventually he may even have hair on top of his head again. 

Luke, now five, would grab his face with his tiny child’s hands and kiss his cheek every time he saw him. He would babble happily to Vader rather than scream, telling him all about his day and all the things he learned. He liked petting Vader’s eyebrows now that his father had them again. 

Vader savored those little pleasures, the only light pleasures he truly, unabashedly allowed himself. The rest he used to fuel his place in the Dark Side. He was Sidious’ Apprentice, the third the Sith Lord had. The man had no problem replacing Vader if he found someone more powerful, so Vader could not be weak.

That brought him back to the point at hand. Obi-Wan was tied up in his bed. At first, Obi-Wan had only been his prisoner to torture for the damage his old Master had done to him, but now he owned Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan’s heart was in his eyes whenever he saw Luke, and Vader tried to contain his anger whenever Luke called Obi-Wan aba. Aba was something more traditional for Tatooine fathers, which was not something Vader wanted to be, but it still made him irrationally angry whenever he was called papa and Obi-Wan was called aba. 

“How far the mighty have fallen,” Vader said, tracing a finger around the trail of hair around Obi-Wan’s stomach, while his eyes traced the hair on Obi-Wan’s chest. He remembered Obi-Wan’s stomach from the war: flat, sometimes extremely defined from the lack of food and water and the amount of fighting he had to do. “Look at how soft you are, old man.” 

Soft, soft, soft. Soft in ways Vader couldn’t feel anymore because Obi-Wan cut his limbs off. Obi-Wan had a soft, plush tummy because Vader wanted Luke to not feel like food was scarce (that was not a baggage his son needed), so both he and Obi-Wan had full access to whatever food they wanted. Obi-Wan was soft because he wasn’t working out or fighting the way he used to. Vader knew Obi-Wan did katas, but as restricted in the Force as he was (not entirely, but enough), he could not do all of the katas in full. Obi-Wan was soft because he had an easy life living in Vader’s home, eating Vader’s food and caring for Vader’s son.

Vader took some of the soft, pale flesh of Obi-Wan’s stomach between his metal fingers (the metal of the arm Dooku had cut off a million years ago) and pinched. Hard. Obi-Wan eventually winced. Vader twisted, watching the skin move with relative ease. 

“Fleshy. Weak. Soft,” Vader sneered. 

“A tummy doesn’t mean weakness,” Obi-Wan said, his voice infuriatingly calm. “Qui-Gon Jinn never had a fully flat stomach and he was a powerful jedi all the same.” 

“Don’t say that name,” Vader hissed. There were few Jedi who he didn’t hate. Qui-Gon was one of them. He’d saved that little boy Vader had once been from slavery, but even he had fallen to the Sith. Vader knew damn well that Obi-Wan must talk about Qui-Gon Jinn with Luke because Luke referred to a ‘Ghost Grandpa’, which Vader took to mean a dead grandfather. Honestly, it was a close as Luke was ever going to get to grandparents, since Vader was hardly going to take Luke to see Padme’s family.

“Qui-Gon’s stomach was soft. I would lay on his stomach and do homework while he napped when I was a youth,” Obi-Wan continued, not at all bothered by Vader’s anger. 

“Shut up. He was a Jedi and weak and died to the Sith none the less,” Vader hissed. 

That at least broke through some of Obi-Wan’s calm. Qui-Gon Jinn was a touchy subject for Obi-Wan as well. Vader didn’t feel satisfied, though. He ran his hand over the soft flesh, distracting himself from his own discomfort. 

“You’re weak, Obi-Wan,” Vader said. “This shows your weakness.” 

“It’s not a weakness to be soft, Darth,” Obi-Wan said, his eyes dancing. “In fact, when it comes to child raising, it’s a strength. Luke likes to lay on my tummy too.” 

Vader felt like he’d been slapped. His limbs were metal, but so was the respirator collar he wore on his neck, shoulders and even partially on his chest. Besides that, his body was a honed instrument of destruction and war. He was not made to be cuddled. That was what made him valuable to Sidious. But he also could not deny that Luke wanted to snuggle Obi-Wan far more than he wanted to snuggle Vader. 

Anger crackled around Vader in the Force. He gave Obi-Wan’s stomach a hard smack, which made Obi-Wan only make a breathy sound of discomfort and jerk that soft, soft stomach away from the slap entirely involuntarily. 

“That was hardly called for,” Obi-Wan said, sniffing at how uncivilized Vader was being. Vader could literally hear Obi-Wan in his mind going ‘how uncivilized’. It made him grit his teeth. 

“And why is that?” Vader hissed out, giving Obi-Wan one chance to explain himself before Vader started hurting him. He would hurt him anyway, but it was ‘civilized’ to give Obi-Wan a chance to speak first. 

“Because you like it too,” Obi-Wan said. There was such a deep well of understanding in his voice and Vader despised him for it. “You lay your head on my stomach when you think I’m asleep.” 

Vader felt his face go scarlet. He felt dangerously out of control. He was dangerously close to admitting that Obi-Wan was right, that Vader wanted to press his face into Obi-Wan’s stomach and take a long nap there. He wanted Obi-Wan to be free of his bonds and pet his head, even the scars Vader normally hated other people touching. He wanted these things so much, but he didn’t dare voice them lest something in him crack irreparably and he be left weak. 

He had to have to control back. So, he went about it the fastest way he knew how. He ripped the thin sleep pants he allowed Obi-Wan in bed (at least to start). He threw them aside, giving him a glorious view of Obi-Wan’s body. Obi-Wan had the signs of a life of hard work, the scars of a Jedi and an honest man. But it wasn’t just his stomach which had gotten soft. His thighs had gotten thicker. His ass was juicy (and boy was Vader glad no one could hear that thought). Even his upper arms had gained a bit of flesh. His calves were thicker, but that just made Vader want to bite them. Obi-Wan had been a warrior, now he was a damned feast. 

The first time he’d done this, almost a full three years back, Obi-Wan had tried to hide from his gaze or cover himself despite being bound. But now Obi-Wan just watched him. He wasn’t calm, he was just sad. Obi-Wan never got angry with him when he did this. The sadness did something for Vader’s anger. It was better than infuriating calm. It was something he could use to fuel the Dark Side. 

Vader unclipped his black shirt and cape. Next came his pants. Obi-Wan always got sadder when he saw Vader bared like this. The first time Vader did this, he’d been humiliated by Obi-Wan gaze, but now he did it to hurt Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan’s guilt made him pliant which made all of this easier. 

When bare, it was easy to see Vader’s limbless state and the scars all over his body. A lot had been done to remove scar tissue, heal damage and give him full feeling back. Oddly, his cock managed to be on the few things which mostly survived. He’d needed surgery and a certain amount of cybernetic and cloning work to make the nerves work so he could actually control it. Sex was possible for the past two years and he’d relished it. He liked hurting Obi-Wan almost as much as he liked having his cock buried in his old Master. 

His weak, pathetic, soft Master, who spread his legs just now and was such a damn distraction looking like that. Vader growled. He was tired of waiting for Obi-Wan to stare and feel bad. He wanted what he wanted and he was taking it now. He crawled onto the bed, pushing Obi-Wan’s legs farther apart. He pulled Obi-Wan’s knees up so Vader could see the plug Obi-Wan had slipped away to put in once Vader got home. 

Vader had been away on a mission and Obi-Wan knew damn well to be prepared and ready to be devoured once dinner was over. “Good boy,” Vader mocked, pretending he couldn’t see how Obi-Wan preened. 

He wrapped his fingers around the base of the plug. It was a cold white, polished stone which never really seemed to do anything but leech heat. Vader liked how it made Obi-Wan squirm with discomfort, even having been using it for a year. He pulled the plug out in one swift motion, making Obi-Wan tip his head back and gasp. His cock twitched with interest, but stayed laying on his stomach, still heavy from its weight. 

At one point in Vader’s life, when he’d been young and foolish, he’d been extremely jealous of his Master’s large cock (though rumor was that it still hadn’t compared Obi-Wan’s old master. And if rumors were right, Obi-Wan’s ass had been destroyed by the dead man’s cock many times over before his death). Young Skywalker had looked at what his Master had with envy as much as he had with lust and wanting. 

Vader no longer felt that envy, especially not today. Today Obi-Wan’s large, heavy cock just seemed to fit the rest of the feast. It was still soft, for now, soft like his stomach and thighs. Soon it would be hard and even heavier than before, but it would still fit with the picture Obi-Wan made. This sight belonged only to Vader. No one else had even seen General Obi-Wan Kenobi, venerated Master of the now destroyed Jedi Order the way Vader saw him now. Others had seen the toned Master or General. The clones had gotten a lot of eyefuls of those rock-hard abs back in the communal showers of the war. But no one else got to see Obi-Wan so plush, so soft, so utterly open for Vader. This was only for Vader.

Desire was in Obi-Wan’s gaze. He desired Vader. He wanted Vader to do this, and best of all, Vader wanted it too. Vader slipped in, letting out a low groan. A few things in the room rattled from the Force. Vader’s pleasure made his control more tenuous. 

“Careful, Darth,” Obi-Wan said, both chastising and utterly fond. Fuck the man! In fact, Vader would fuck the man. 

He began to thrust up into the man. It was hard, pounding, exacting, just like Vader himself. Still, Obi-Wan tipped his head back and laughed. Obi-Wan did that, especially when Vader could force himself in as deep as possible. The deeper he could go, the more Obi-Wan laughed from pleasure. Vader hadn’t laughed in years, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy listening to other laughed (like the two members of the family he wouldn’t admit to anyone to having). 

The sound was deeply intoxicating to Vader. It always had been, ever since the first day he’d heard it. He chased it as a boy and he chased it now. He drove his cock in deep and deeper, going as hard as he could on a simple staccato rhythm which had Obi-Wan tipping his head back and cackling like Vader used to when he was flying for the pleasure of it. Obi-Wan was flying now, his mind sky high with what Vader did to him. 

He was a soft and weak and made to be fucked. He had to be weak to feel like this. He had to be weak to take pleasure in the pleasure Vader took from him. But the Force practically danced with Obi-Wan’s happiness. It had for years. Their sex was always like this. Vader’s anger hardly stood a chance, so instead he guarded these moments jealously. Jealously could lead to anger, could lead to hate and that was useful as a Sith Lord. 

But as a man, that sound undid him. It reminded him for a few bare moments that was a man. He gripped Obi-Wan’s sides, feeling the gentle squish of his flesh, the way his skin gave under the metal of Vader’s palms. Obi-Wan wasn’t afraid of this touch, he relished it. Vader relished the feelings Obi-Wan gave him. He fed of them. This was his and his alone. 

He fucked and fucked, taking and taking. Obi-Wan laughed and laughed, rocking against Vader, chasing the high only Vader could give him now. His, his, his. His soft, soft, beautiful, perfect Jedi who he loved so deep in his heart. He made Vader feel things Vader locked deep in a box, buried under the love he had for his son to mask. Vader never even thought of those feelings except for these moments. Then he opened himself to them so fully.

Obi-Wan loved Anakin Skywalker. He loved Vader no less. Nothing Vader had ever done could stop that soft, soft love. He was adored no matter what. No one else had ever earned that or deserved that, not even Vader. But it was his, his, his. 

Eventually that controlled rhythm became messy with both their wants and needs. Vader slammed in hard and fast a few uneven times, hitting his climax with a shout that rattled walls, both in his heart and in their room. Obi-Wan had come while Vader was riding his own high. He would be bitterly disappointed if the man didn’t look so beautiful covered in his own cum, still giggling like a young fool. 

Vader was panting when he pulled out. The sound of his respirator brought him back to himself. It wasn’t as long as the old one, but it still had the distinctive aal-per noise which seemed far too loud in the silence that came once Obi-Wan’s laughter died. 

There was wariness in Obi-Wan’s gaze, swiftly replaced with bitter and familiar disappointment when Vader locked his love back in that box and forgot it all over again. He pulled out of Obi-Wan, grabbing hold of his own cock. He wiped his cock off on Obi-Wan’s thick thighs. Obi-Wan was gorgeous covered in cum. 

“I should keep you like this, always covered in cum. I bet there are very many people who would pay good money to cum all over,” Vader said. He pushed himself up, beginning to dress minimally for the walk to the bacta tank. “I bet I could have enough people coming to cum on you that you could be there for weeks, getting more and more cum on you. You’d be drowning in it before it would be all over.” 

“Well, supposedly semen is good for the complexion,” Obi-Wan joked weakly. 

“Would you like that, my old Master?” Vader asked sharply. Jealousy curled like an ugly beast around his heart. 

“You would never do that, Darth. You would never share me like that. Nor would you allow me out of this fortress of yours. Nor would you allow that many people around Luke, or risk Luke seeing.” 

Obi-Wan was right, which pissed him off. Vader picked the electric prod off the rack where he kept suck toys. He set it to Obi-Wan’s sensitive cock and turned it on, making Obi-Wan let out a surprised shout. Vader smirked, pleased at the pain he’d caused his old Master. 

“You belong to me. I decide what is to become of you,” Vader said sharply. 

“Yes, you do,” Obi-Wan rasped. Though his voice was weak and though he had agreed with Vader’s words, Vader could still hear something in the undercurrents of Obi-Wan’s words. Despite everything, Obi-Wan still knew Vader would never follow through on that threat. 

Obi-Wan belonged to Vader only (and Luke. He belonged to Luke too). Vader would destroy anyone who laid a hand on Obi-Wan, no matter who that person was, no matter the cost. No one could replaced Obi-Wan, nothing could replace him. 

Vader turned and strode out of the room, heading for bacta. For Obi-Wan’s sass, he left him chained and covered in cum. The nanny droids would wake Vader if Luke had a nightmare, as they were programmed to do when Vader was home. Luke would never see Obi-Wan like that. And in the morning, Obi-Wan would rasp out and apology and slink into the shower once Vader released the cuffs. He would look beautiful when he looked defeated like that with his shoulders slumped in depression. He looked soft.


End file.
